


An Ending... Or A Beginning

by littleberd



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dib is a Zoo exhibit, Earth is Destroyed, Earth is conquered, Eventual Smut, Everyone Thinks They're Together, M/M, Minor Kismesissitude, Smart Zim (Invader Zim), The Tallest's managerie, Xenophilia, dib is twenty-something you can stop clutching your pearls now, not on earth, they meet in prison, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-10-10 11:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20527142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleberd/pseuds/littleberd
Summary: Dib has believed in the supernatural for years...Now he wishes everyone had been right about him...Because there is no 'everyone' anymore...He had thought being ignored and unbelieved was the worst feeling on EarthNow he realizes it's being theLastthat's truly terrifyingOf being an EndingAnd having nobody to blame but yourselfZimbelievedin the TallestBecause that's what Irkens are programmed to doOnly.Defectives.DoubtedOr revealed they ever did anyway





	1. Don't Count On The Wicked

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Virus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911357) by [JustBeStill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustBeStill/pseuds/JustBeStill). 

> TSooooooooooooo every time I listen to Billy Talent my hands crave the keyboard to type out fanfiction ideas for Zadr… I don't know whether I'm just going to make a batch of one-shots or an actual story cuz it's time to face the music and it's been my goddamn muse for every single zadr fic I've written...

**This Mind Don't Do What It's Told To**  
___________________________________________ 

Light step, _Noise is a hinderance to an invaders goal; and will result in immediate eradication._

Heel clack, _Unless necessary, as is required on Homeworld; announcing ones presence to fellow Irkens is required._

Twelve inches exactly to next step, _Do not stand out, one miss-step will lead to the fall of those that march in Zim's foot-steps; Only defectives make mistakes._

Knees straight not locked, _Such action would result in restriction of blood circulation and would cause undo strain on body as well as possible injury; self-harm is a defective behavior and will result in deletion._

Arm swing in programmed arch, _The possibility of brushing against another Irken; could result in a dishonorable discharge and summarily be cause for immediate execution by the offended._

Fist relaxed but exactly an inch from hip, _So as not to brush uniform; and create the defective habit of wearing down mandatory uniform._

Chest out, spine unbending, and neck linear, _Irkens are mighty, Irkens are proud of their species and show their patriotism at all times in self-pride; only defectives are meek and breakable._

Eyes straight and chin jutted, _Irkens are all on equal footing, those of lesser height do not dare look up, and those of greater height do not disregard one of the cogs needed to keep Irk as a whole running; To question ones place is to question the Control Brainz design and the Tallest's Leadership, such acts of mutiny would result in immediate deletion._

Antenna at attention and PAK silently humming, _An Irken has no need for luxuries unless they are earned and designated by their status and only when they are permitted to indulge them. An Irken's PAK is their code and if it is not running correctly will require maintenance check; if defective coding is found to have spread beyond repair, such symptoms are over indulgence, sloth, and distractedness, then it will result in deletion._

__

Zim is not **Defective**.

Zim is all too aware. Zim is a model Irken Invader. And Irkens seem to envy his successes rather than rejoice in them, perhaps it's his potential risk in rivaling the Tallest in height as it were.

He has been given a growth upgrade, a whole foot, as the result of Earth being conquered. But nothing else, no extra free time, no extra rations, no sleep mode or weapons upgrade. Which is not what was to be given as a promotion to those invaders who were successful in their missions.

Zim could bare the injustices, Zim always has. But first, Zim needed a place to vent his frustrations.

Zim about-phase's to the left and heads towards his place of peace. A place all were permitted but rarely went.

All Zim needed was to gaze upon the weak species that was eradicated in the name of the Mighty Irken Empire. To look at the results of his labor, and feel the pride his race had been unable to bestow on him for _reasons unclear_.

"I wonder how the newest exhibit is doing, it was a rather slippery Ending to catch. I believe it now holds the record for longest to have evaded capture to date, although it's species was, surprisingly enough, one of the quickest to eliminate from existence." Zim contemplates, heading towards the Menagerie of the Conquered.

___________________________________________  
**These Eyes Don't Cry At All**  
___________________________________________

Dib stares down at his scarless hands, the pristine cuticles, the unblemished skin in the pale light penetrating the glass box of a cell he's to live in for the rest of his eternal life. Dib can't cry anymore, the damn mechanical parasite on his back has stopped his body from wasting h20. It's also stopped him from eating, and pissing, and shitting. 

But it's also stopped him from sleeping, from having countless nightmares he deserved to go through. Because all of this... was his fault.

Dib clenches his hands so tight his nails cut into him, the damn 'PAK' on his back is already beeping angrily at him once more. And in seconds the wounds are closed and the only evidence it had ever happened was the small traces of blood beneath his fingernails. 

They don't want a human being, they want a live specimen, they want a butterfly pinned in glass to gawk at. And Dib knows he's the only one now, the only human specimen. He's seen the plaque on his his box... it's been a few weeks? Months? Since he was on Earth. He'd studied their language from scavenged Irken tech enough during the invasion by then to distinguish their number system.

Dib had known that aliens existed, it was scientifically impossible that there wasn't some other form of intelligent life beyond the young galaxy he had been born in. And Dib wasn't naive enough to believe that there wasn't malevolent aliens out there, if such a small species as humans had a plethora of horrific regimes in it's history, no doubt there were several that were smarter, stronger, and more keen on being in control of everything than a few small minded humans.

So Dib did what he thought was smart at the time. He'd sabatoged any and all transmissions traveling out from Earth, from any military his father was in contact with. It was simple enough to hack the rest from there. But Dib also knew that hiding wasn't going to help much if he didn't know what might have diabolical designs for Earth. 

"Know thy enemy." Was an appropriate name for his next phase.

So Dib did research, on any and all of the strange encounters people allegedly had, not to mention the tech scientists shared with his father. They'd thought it was ancient lost technologies humans had devised... Dib knew better. Never was he so glad his father denied any and all supernatural creatures Dib didn't have concrete proof of. His bond with Professor Membrane grew though with his further involvement in the scientific field with him, and even brought him to many archialogical digs Dib had an interest in. 

And on one such site, was the very thing that brought ruin down on his species.

A transmitter.

Dib had whisked it away and managed to make intelligent contact with a ship that roughly translated to "The Resisty". The languages contrasted rather harshly for most things, seeing as there were a plethora of different species of aliens from all over the universe on the ship which didn't include the many dialects and accents of each species tongue... if they even had one or multiple.

But they wasted no time in informing him of what he knew was out there, and what was closer to home than he thought.

The Irken Empire had destroyed or enslaved their species depending on their reception. If the species surrendered as a whole then they were spared death but were treated less than pets, but if they didn't, specicide was nigh. The last of their species was always collected though. The last fighter, the "Ending" of the species, had a worse fate by far than death.

They were to be living trophies, made an example of by being put into the place that roughly translated to menagerie, but's definition more closely alligned to a Zoo, the biggest collective of 'Ending's in the universe. And they would be kept alive by PAK's backpak-like parasites that would control the beings bodily functions and keep them alive as long as the 'control brainz' stayed online.

Dib didn't understand then, but he understands now, how despicable and torturous this fate was. He'd not wish it on his worst enemy...

Everything had been going according to plan, remaining under the radar and making allies right under the enemies nose. Up until "The Resisty" was destroyed and it's crew had escaped, fleeing to Earth... and leading the Irkens right to them.

At first they'd come up with a reasonable lie and demanded their "escaped criminal prisoners" be turned over. Dib knew better, he'd told his father not to believe them. But Professor Membrane was enamored, the Irkens offered opportunities of unexplored 'real science'. And when he saw that absorbed look in his father's eyes he use to get when he denied Dib's beliefs and was hyper-focused on whatever experiment he was working on at the moment... he knew his father was willing to do anything the Irkens asked of him.

And Dib was right, he'd been smart enough to install cameras in the bunker he'd hidden the crew in, and saw the soldiers killing them in cold blood. And when the soldiers brought his father into the bunker and shot him in the back while he wasn't looking Dib vowed he'd bring them down by whatever means neccessary.

Gaz didn't care, she scoffed and denied the footage. "Dad's not stupid." And disappeared into her bedroom. That was the last time Dib saw his little sister, and he will always regret not dragging her with him. 

Things quickly escelated from there, people died, rebel groups rose like weeds and were sqaushed with less effort than it takes to stomp on a worm.

And somehow, Dib, managed to evade, kill, and beat back the Irkens that got too close. Until that one call on the radio asking for safety. A trap Dib hoped he could manipulate into an actual rescue mission.

He was right, Dib was always right. It had been a trap, but there were no hostages to potentially save. And the hope he had been guarding inside his heart was doused out with these words.

_"The last human's finally been caught, time to add him to the menagerie and surface wipe this planet already."_

And the rest was blurry after that, snippets of pain and 8 Earth days in and out of consciousness inside this giant petri dish, if the PAK was to be believed.

And so Dib sits in his special fish tank, already plotting on bringing the Irken Empire to it's knees. He owed it to the dead, and now that he had nothing to lose, there was nothing stopping him. After all, the Empire had practically gift wrapped their demise for him. Who's bright idea was it to hold the most threatening enemies of the Empire close to their only vulnerability?

Were they just that arrogant? Or was their something he was missing? It couldn't be this easy could it?


	2. Runnin Across The Tracks

________________________________________

**Pulling The Blindfolds Back**

________________________________________

After the fanfare of the awarding ceremony, the Irken Tallest are whisked away back to their quarters. Being among the smallers was not something they enjoyed unless they were coming back with arms laden with snacks and such frivolities their leaders ordered retrieved.

"Red, Zim's getting another height upgrade..." Purple growls, fingers already going for a doughnut.

Red huffs at the physically _growing_ problem, tapping his foot on the ground in vexation. "How does he keep completing his missions? We've sent him out on things that shouldn't have been possible to complete! There wasn't suppose to _BE_ a planet out there Purple! We did multiple scans, came up with zilch, sent Zim out there to disappear and BOOM! category 3 planet, perfect for agriculture and producing exotic food and creatures."

"It's a good thing he got demoted all those years ago, otherwise we wouldn't have the positions we have now." Purple says though a muffled bite of pastry. Red falls heavily onto the swivel chair.

"Yeah, although it's even better that we planned ahead. Speaking of which, I think this new plan should prove affective." Red grumbles, making a 'go long' gesture, tilting his head back, and opening his mouth open just enough to catch the donut Purple send sailing his way.

Red swivels around to the holographic screens, pulling up a live feed from the menagerie. "Let's see just how fruitful this plan is going to turn out."

Purple walks over and leans over Red's shoulder, eyes widening in delight. "Oh _Pur_ you've outdone yourself with this one. This is a lot more ironic than your usual style."

Red leans back against the chair and nuzzles against Purple's cheek, antenna entwining with his equal in adoration, "I thought it would be a whole Irk of a lot sweeter to see his success backfire. And even if it doesn't manage to kill _him_, Zim will most assuredly kill _it_ and when it does..."

"The repercussions are going to end him this time." Purple sneers, malicious smirk twisting his smile into something that all life forms have come to fear once they've seen it. It held quit the opposite effect on Red, intensifying his deep love at the sadistic glee coming from his partner in crime.

"Have I ever mentioned how sexy you are when you're plotting to kill our usurpers?" Purple whispers, lightly flicking his tongue against one of Red's antenna.

Red shudders once.

And then grabs Purple by his throat, not in a restrictive way, but enough to catch his partner by surprise. Other hand going for Purple's antenna and holding them in his clutches. "Not enough by far... I know this gets you horny, but you're gonna have to do better than that to turn me on Pur."

Pur gasps at the man-handling (Irken-handling?), but giggles with an idea, "How about a _bet_… you're always a sucker for a good gamble."

Red nibbles along Purple's jaw before nipping an antenna, humming at the thought and continuing huskily, "I'm listening."

Purple takes Red's hand away from his neck and entwines it with his own, "We bet on who dies, if Zim doesn't cark it... then you get to do whatever you want with me for 2 days... If the hyuumon doesn't bite the dust, well... I get to _top_."

Red huffs in aggravation, "You just want me to shower you with kinks don't you? Hardly seems a fair bet Purple. Zim's, ugh it's gross to even acknowledge him, one of the best Irkens in single combat of his generation. And that pitiful hyuumon is barely older than the smeets at devastie."

Purple giggles, his smirk turning far more mischievous than it had any right to be.

Red glares in suspicion, "Why are you willing to bet on the hyuumon Pur, how have you tampered with my plans now?" Red pokes at Purple's abdomen disgruntledly, Purple just chortles.

"The answer to that is going to cost you~!" Purple chortles, Red immediately begins to pout at that.

Purple's smirk's sharp edges soften by a degree, such a degree that only the one person most enamored by the vixen would even see. "Fine, I'll give you a hint. Much as we always have tended to do... we had the same brilliant idea. Only I've placed my chips on the hyuumon rather than the control brains logic... after all, they've pardoned him enough to become unreliable at best and _defective_ at worse. Let's just say that I wanted to cover both of our bases... it also helps that this hyuumon, although barely matured, has killed at least a battalion of irken soldiers while he was hiding on Earth. It is, dare I say, a rather worthy adversary to Zim when given an _upgrade_."

Red's pout curls into an impressed sneer, "You little _fiend_, tampering with an **Ending**, that's some hardcore hacking Purple."

Purple flicks his antenna and preens at the praise, "Oh you know, a little added 0 and 1's here, a little bit of misplaced PAK upgrades there, I mean, we couldn't give them to _Zim_ but why let them go to waste, hmm?"


	3. This Is How It Goes

________________________________________

You can steal my body but you can't steal my soul

________________________________________

Dib feels them, uncannily _knows_ them, the things in his PAK. Because of the connection of the life support forced upon him, attached to his spinal cord, he knows a whole hell of a lot more than he did before. In fact he knows _every single_ **SHRED** of information about Earth: it's inhabitants, intelligent and primal, the creations, the destruction, the known and unknown, every single living organism that existed on Earth and their genetic makeup sample results.

As an Ending, of not just the human race but of the intelligent creatures on Earth, Dib's PAK holds all the information Irk ever scrounged up on the destroyed planet. An Ending is kept as a literal thesaurus of information all things Earth, rather than burdening the 'control brainz' with the amount of information, the Endings are used instead. And they are the sole possessors of that information, the control brains can access them, but only if there is a crisis that requires it.

And that's why they are held in the menagerie, a library for the control brains and a trophy room for their minions. Easy access to any who might need it if ever they are needed, something that hasn't happened but they are prepared for nonetheless.

But that doesn't explain why he has these _other_ programs in his PAK, they're weapons. Dib doesn't get it. They already had him, they destroyed his planet, his species, and have imprisoned him in this glass cube. Why set up another trap? They'd already won, harassing him further didn't seem like a thing they'd do. Wasn't really their style, Dib was just a dumb animal locked away in a zoo to them, perfectly fine to gawk at but not the kind to antagonize.

After many days... weeks? at war with himself curiosity finally wins out. Dib looks through the tutorials, picking a subtle one to try first. Long lethal gleaming rods slide out of the PAK, they each end at 4 feet, at their ends there is a magnetized joint to connect the next one. There are four legs in total and 2 joints in each as well as one inside the PAK. Dib knows just how versatile these weapons are, deceptively strong but elegant in a sleek almost fragile gran-daddy long leg look to them. Bullets barely make a dent in them, he knew this from experience. Guns, Knives, explosives, acids... none of it could even _scratch_ them. But Dib discovered too late in the game how to kill them, or at the very least, maim them.

Dib traces over the limbs until his fingers brush the metal embedded into his spine, and it was now Dib's weakness as well.

After a few moments feeling out his new limbs, Dib smirks, "Time to test these babies out."

_________________________________________________________

Lucky penny glued to the ground

_________________________________________________________

Zim marches on, avoiding his kind like the plague. Going about the same route he always took after every mission he'd accomplished, so old in fact that one would call it a habit... if one were not Irken.

He comes to the grand archway, this place being one of the oldest and well maintained monuments of Irk. The support beams are made from different gemstones and other such crystals of all shapes and sizes, some giant columns, and others, small little bundles resembling frost. But not in color of course, no, they're all a ranging red or purple, and a few patches of pink. At the top is a giant slab scratched in ancient Irken "Menagerie of Adversa-" the last few letters cut off from view by a low hanging pipe.

Zim sighs at the obscurity, the clear message before his ocular implants, the path of the future slowly erasing the past from the books. He walks past with an air of disgust, heels clicking like a metronome in perfect programmed increments. Zim ventures two steps in and his antenna register the breath of unneeded CO2 that pollutes the air.

The Irken invader jumps into a roll as glinting Pak legs slice where he once was, more importantly, where his PAK once was.

Already Zim knows what his attacker is, knows what weapons he's up against, and just what Irkens are responsible for letting it loose.

He adjusts his glove, pressing a button hidden by the fabric just below, "Hyuumon. It seems an Irken has made an unauthorized addition to your PAK's base requirements." Zim taunts.

But the hyuumon doesn't respond, and has since moved from it's vantage point above the archway. The ceiling is vaulted here, but pipes are everywhere across it, the only lights come from the glass enclosures of the Endings, the floors inside bright and only casting shadows from the Ending's moving within them. Zim notices at a sideways glance that just a few rows down one has a rather large hole in it's side and is empty.

He slowly makes his way towards it, reading the Hyuumon Ending's name on the plague on the floor in front of the glass cube.

"So your name is Dib, hyuumon Ending? It's very short, and if Zim recalls, your species had multiple names, and most of them long and extravagant. Only superior Irkens receive names, much like the first names in the "American" continent you resided on, our designation, our jobs, what we Irkens are born to do, could be used as a second name in your culture. Much as yours would describe a lineage, your origin, your roots. An Irken's designation is much the same. Why are you out Ending Dib? Zim knows that it takes only a few weeks of unconsciousness before you are put into the display cases and then roused for the rest of your immortal torment. The PAK is put on during transit and sometime during your travel you were programmed with those weapons you tried to impale Zim with."

Zim brushes a gloved taloned finger across it, feeling the smooth dip of the three carved letters engraved forever into this place of immortalization before straightening his spine and leering over his shoulder towards the ceiling. "A valiant effort on your part, but Endings with PAKs do not require to _breathe_ Dib-thing. Your Urth may have had terrifying levels of the stuff in your atmosphere which made detecting you a little more difficult, but your gross hyuumon body is releasing disgusting levels of that pollution that is foreign here, and an unnecessary activity that your PAK can do just fine for you. Your ability to hide is rather good, one of the best Zim has come across from a species that does not have much going for it in terms of camouflage capabilities, and if Zim did not have the heat signature program running Zim does not think Zim would be able to find you as easily as Zim did just now."

The hyuumon launches at Zim again but Zim merely side steps as the momentum takes the hyuumon with it. The height of the creature is the first thing he notes about it, tall, almost as tall as himself, long flap of blue and brown proteins creating fur on it's head. Pale, but with greenish undertones and spiderwebs of blue veins under the skin of it's fists. Zim punches the Ending in it's abdomen, hearing the release of more of that wretched CO2 as it's inferior breathing organ instinctively decompresses in order not to pop from the sudden impact. Zim does not however follow through with the momentum, body already in motion, but the not-so unpleasant sweet and salty smell of the hyuumon and the fact that its a rare warm blooded species being taken as a side-note.

Zim feels the turning of lithe muscles a millisecond before he can react, the hyuumon continues to use what momentum it has left to spin along Zim's arm and land a firm blow directly into Zim's face with it's sharp bony elbow.

Zim stumbles back, blinking at the stunned pain he's been dealt before coming back with a swift knee to the hyuumon's already healing but still bruised abdomen.

The hyuumon wheezes out another breath, before reeling, hissing at the pain. It holds out a red crystal in it's hand and sneers, spitting on it and then slapping it across Zim's face.

The pain it causes is agonizing, Zim recognizes what it is and the chemical reaction needed to nullify it's harmful properties immediately. Zim flicks the remains of the crystal from his cheek and smeers a clear coat of a special 'paste' made to deactivate the red mercury's reaction to the hyuumon's spit. Zim tsks at the disgusting mess it's made and the twinge his newly grown skin causes his pain receptors, before locking eyes with the hyuumon.

Zim's only seen hyuumons thus far through reports, descriptions of races and subspecies with varying skin, eye, and hair color, never in person. Even more so, the videos and pictures always show a hyuumon with it's eyes averted, whether in pain or shame or in broken hopelessness. A sign of submission, of defeat. But this one...

Burning liquid fire, a strange mix between brown and gold, his PAK supplies an example of the color, 'honey', a product that an insect species on Urth produced in a gross process but was actually very prized on Irk now, being that it was one of the very few things on Urth that managed not to be as tinged by deadly pollution as the other things on the spinning dirt-ball.

The hyuumon's eyes were this and more, so much more, Zim saw the fierce will to survive, to fight, to _live_. If Zim could indulge in breathing, this _Dib-thing_ would have taken Zim's breath away.

For the first time since Zim's zap to life, his Irken instinct to hoard has awakened. Zim had already had a plan for this Ending before even walking into the Menagerie, now it seems there are some points that need to be amended and perhaps even tossed out completely.

"Return to your display Dib-thing. Even if you were to defeat and kill Zim, the control brains would be alerted of Zim's death immediately. This is Irk, this is Homeworld, the most secure place in the Irken Empire. All Ending's have a tracker inside their PAK's in such unlikely circumstances that you escape and being as Zim's own last known location is the Menagerie… you would soon be overtaken and forced back into your cell whether you wish it or not, and have your new toys dismantled. With this option you will get to keep your programs and maybe even get a chance at "real" revenge." Zim murmurs, nodding his chin back towards the precise hole cut into the glass cube.

The _Dib_ arches the weird hair growing on it's face and squints an eye in confusion before lowering it's fist just a few centimeters, "And why would I believe one of you evil space roaches at all?" Dib unceremoniously pulls out a laser from his PAK, shooting in rapid fire at the retreating Irken.

Dib follows after, right on Zim's heels as he darts between two display cases, narrowly missing his target and scorching the side of the glass black, Zim sprints to the far back and starts climbing the walls. "_You_'ve likely slaughtered millions of planets, why should I believe a word that comes out of that filthy mouth?" Dib uses his PAK legs to scale one of the cubes and to jump after his prey.

Dib has lost him, but only just, he's narrowed his whereabouts to just two rows. Dib stalks the path between, "I know that you can't kill an Ending, not unless you want to be _deleted_ from the control brains completely. I've figured out that much, we're just computer files to you and if we're lost they'll have your PAK for it. I can't die thanks to you bastards so you're going to have to beat me near to death and drag me unconscious to that god forsaken glass cell. I'm not some fucking butterfly to add to your collection you sick fucks. Come out and fight me you coward!"

Zim gracefully drops from the ceiling and latches onto Dib's back, a gloved hand clawing a small scratch into the Ending's PAK and sending a tendril from his own, sending a very specific program through their PAK's faster than a bullet.

Dib instantly slumps, paralyzed and unable to move from the shoulders down, the PAK weapons retract and Zim swiftly changes his hold on the hyuumon and catches them both with his newly upgraded PAK legs. Zim is at Dib's cell in mere moments. Zim places Dib down carefully onto the floor, "Now, Zim only has a few more moments before guards come here because of a detected broken case. Stay quiet, do not talk to any Irken, and do NOT make eye contact. They will know if you do, you give off too many "unbroken" signals. Zim will return soon."

Dib growls in seething rage, "Why are you _doing_ this!?!"

Zim smirks, leaning down to the hyuumon and flicking the weird strand of hair on the Dib's head that chooses to defy gravity, "Because Zim has no need for games, Zim does not _lie_. Also, Zim has been setting this plan up for a _very_ long time. The Tallest gave you these programs in order to assassinate Zim. And the Tallest are also the ones that ordered your planet destroyed. Zim will tell you this now so as it will not come as a horrible surprise later on. But Zim was the Irken invader responsible for the invasion, and destruction of your planet. However, if Zim had not done so swiftly and without cruelty... some far more saddistic Irken would have tormented your species for another dozen cycles with useless and frivolous activities. No invasion has ever been personal to Zim and if Zim had refused, would have resulted in Zim's immediate deletion. Zim will be back."

Dib's facial expressions morph through a myriad of different emotions. Zim leaves, uses some unusual feature in his PAK to put back every piece of glass seamlessly back into place. And then blows another hole into the case next door, dragging out the pitiful bird-fish creature clutching the hands gripping it. And connecting his PAK with the simpering Ending, before throwing it back into it's cage. Zim presses the button in his glove again.

Not a few seconds later do a dozen Irkens in guard uniforms come racing in. They point their guns at Zim and Zim complies, but explains the situation.

"The Ending must have broken out of it's cell somehow, Zim was ambushed when Zim entered and Zim quickly corralled it back into it's display case. It's PAK is not damaged but Zim suspect it's been tampered with. Yet another Assassination attempt that's ended in utter failure Zim is afraid. Victory for Zim!"

The guard shakes their head and lowers it's weapon, "And this is why I'll never try to get a height upgrade, this is the, what? seventh assassination attempt on you this cycle? Your shorters are persistent I'll give them that."

Zim chuckles darkly at that, smirking at the Irken guard in comradery, "Oh they're stubborn alright, bull-headed is more like it. Honestly, Zim's one leisure activity is always interrupted. Why even earn them if they're going to be squandered?'

The irken nods and laughs at that, the group quickly get a technician over to the Ending and it's confirmed that it's PAK has been tampered with before they delete the weapons program and seal the glass enclosure back.

Zim makes idle chit chat with the group here and there and Zim follows behind but looks back and catches Dib's eye, winking at his hyuumon and walking out of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know red Mercury does not react that way, but this is Invader Zim we're talking about, also, the red mercury I'm referring to is the conspiracy chemical warhead ingredient. Which, really, would any world power admit to a key ingredient to such a weapon? I think not, but Dib has also been snooping in every database he could get his nimble fingers into so, yeah, he'd DEINITELY know the ins and outs of this, not to mention, there's plenty of red toned gems and crystals on that arch way to pick from really, Dib just chose the one he thought would work best against an Irken in that "just in case" mindset of his.


	4. Prisoners of Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so, roommate is threatening me with :gay, my knees, and aiming a glow in the dark dildo between my elbows. What the hell has my life become?!?! 
> 
> If this chapter seems a little rushed blame them. They're literally waving it at me from their bed as I'm writing. by the way, my roomate has requested that "Oh wyrm" should be used as the trigger warning for further chapters. 
> 
> (facepalms)

I never bite off more than I could chew 

____________________________________________

Once Zim gets to his private quarters he does a routine scan for bugs and the like, finding the normal amount, Zim destroys them either by squishing them between his fingers or squashing them beneath his heel.

Immediately going to his recharging chair afterwards and pulling up the reports and such he had to draw up on the next planet slated for slaughter. Rubbing his talons gently across his temple in frustration. Things had gone well, almost too well. And Now Zim was stuck with this feeling that he had forgotten something, something crucial.

But for the life of him he couldn't figure out if there actually was something or not. If it was information to feed to the Dib then it could be remedied when next they interacted. But if it was not, then it was something Zim was routinely use to doing. Something he had put in his protocols to remember and never forget to do. Something ingrained that he must never forget.

But Zim was coming up blank, Zim, knew he was not perfect, knew he was _defective_. It didn't normally hinder him in appearances, but his code, if left unchecked and unremedied every now and again, could fully corrode. It wasn't something to forget, because it could lead to Zim forgetting. But there's the trick. If Zim has forgotten something, because of the mess that was his code, then how was he to remember that it was corroded?

A reboot was required if Zim hoped to remember what he had forgotten. Most cases it was too late, but right now Zim had a chance to do so. And that's exactly what Zim was going to do.

____________________________________________

So tell me why should I stay

____________________________________________

The ship was filled with a few scant hundred of humans, the few of the population that were smart enough to hitch a ride off of the planet when they got the chance. The idiots that stayed got slayed, including my idiot brother. Dib.

He was smart enough to plan ahead, to see this coming, but his plan backfired on him big time. Housing alien refugees and leading the malicious alien Empire that was after them right to Earth's significantly technologically stunted orbit? Not the brightest idea.

Granted, I do miss him and his stupid big head, however little I saw of him while he was alive, he was my brother. And even though this is all his fault... I regret not dragging his ass out of there.

After leaving Earth we got into a bit of a battle. The fighter pilots kept getting shot, and at that point everyone was screaming their heads off about it being the end. I got sick of hearing everyone's sobbing, except that one religious freak rocking in the corner whimpering kumbaya my lord, so I got into one of the little room alcoves to get some semblance of peace and quiet, and try not to go into a blood rage.

When an alarm went off I realized it wasn't a little alcove, it was a little fighter ship attached to the actual travel ship. The door closed, and a console appeared out of thin air, some sort of hologram with the advancement of interacting with the physical plane.

I got a weird alien with horns demanding I get out across my screen, but I shooed the image off to the side.

Nobody was going to get in my way. This was the closest I had gotten to a video game since my gameslave gave out and I ran out of batteries about a month after Earth got invaded. I was going to mop the floor with these cockroach shmucks, dying with my hand on the joystick was the only way I wanted to go and like hell I was going to just go back into the wailing pit of pathetic idiots in the hull.

Honestly I was kind of disappointed, they were barely a challenge. Until I had seen they were regrouping by their big ass mothership. Turns out they didn't care about us, as they wiped the planet clean of life. They were trying to herd us away from the beam, like if there was something blocking it the wipe wouldn't be complete. After seeing the chance to escape, albeit at the cost of the decimation of the Earth, the Resisty ships regrouped and jumped into a different quadrant.

And it was there that I both got an ass-chewing that I didn't understand in the slightest because of the language barrier, and a job as a fighter pilot.

I rose through the ranks easily, and I miss the months where I was just shooting stuff. But looking through the database of survivors always makes me sick to my stomach. Dib was mia. Nobody reported him captured and dead, but there was still that hope that he found a way off planet niggling in the back of my mind.

Gaz sighs, kicking her feet up on the desk and starts munching on the closest thing to pasta she's found in space thus far, staring out into the grand view of the cosmos before her. _The food here sometimes makes me homesick, who I wouldn't fucking kill for a slice of bloaty's pizza._

"Commander Gaz... we've been transmitted a message from our informant."

Gaz transfers her focus to the reflection on the glass, an alien cadet she had hand picked after he recreated a set of batteries that wouldn't fry her gameslave stood there twiddling his thumbs nervously. "Oh? And what kind of information has he discovered?"

"The human Ending.... yo-Dib Membrane is alive. Your sibling is the Ending of Earth."

Gaz slowly squashes the piece of pasta in her fist, "Good, now I can strangle some sense into his stupid big head when I rescue him."

__________________________________________________

But then she bit my leg

___________________________________________________

When Zim came back online he began to sweat beads of nitroglycerin.

"He couldn't be … _that Dib_…"


	5. Living In The Shadows

_____________________  
Distant loud chuckles  
_____________________

Zim walks down the hall, perfect steps and in perfect cadence. The security system breathing down his neck for any sign of trick, any deception, any _defect_.

At last, Invader Zim makes it to the doors, the final barrier to his destination. The guards scan him as if he's not been scanned a bajillion times just walking towards the Control Bay.

"Invader Zim, upon request of the Mighty Tallest themselves you are to appear before their malevolent personages. Proceed."

Zim steps forward without any prompting. The doors open, and there they are.

The creatures he would be serving for only a little bit longer.

The room is about 40 feet wide, and long with a height exceeding over 100 feet. The expanses of space are visible with a panoramic view, with tiers of around a hundred pilots and technicians making themselves busy. But the food drones are far more numerous, waiting in a single file line to bring their tray of sugar filled and nutritious goodies for their Tallest to consume.

"EW! This one doesn't have SPRINKLES! Throw him out of the airduct along with whatever chef drone that made these abominations." The pitiful food drone whimpers but does not resist. The other drones simply move forward along the assembly line.

Tallest Purple snatches a donut absolutely dripping with sprinkles, examining it with one eye closed, muttering, "Now here's what I like to see." before devouring it in two bites.

"Oh, Invader Zim. You're finally here. Congratulations and whatever about your new height status blah blah blah. We've decided upon you new assignment. Let's speak bluntly here, this will be your **last** mission. Good luck Invader Zim. You're going to need it."

Zim bows lowly, "My tallest, I will be out of your sights and on my ship to begin my mission post haste. However, upon looking on the worth of the mission and my height status, I am to bring up that I am to follow article five procedure before the control brains might and under Imperial law, I am to be assigned a Sir unit to record my mission for proof of sabotage and to be witness to my achievements to which I will be putting forth for the betterment of our Great Empire. All I require is your bio signatures to which you cannot deny under the control brains will."

Tallest Red looks down from the dais, sneer firmly in place, "Fine, give it here."

Zim procures the tablet and passes it to the specialist under them. The poison tester of sorts, and she deems it clean. Wiping it down and passing it to the Tallest. With suspicion, Red presses one of his two fingers to the tablet. It beeps a confirmation and Red passes it to Purple. "Your turn, and make sure somebody gets the icing off of his fingers before he touches it."

A drone walks forward with sanitation wipe, gently, ever so gently, ridding the co-ruler of chocolate icing and sprinkles. Purple groans, at the inconvenience of it all and yanks it out of Red's hand, "Fine, whatever."

___________________  
Awkward in stances  
___________________

The PAK on Dib's back keeps track of the time... It's 3 days later when the irken bastard shows his ugly alien mug around his display case.

"Greetings Dib-thing," Zim waves in an almost dismissive gesture, PAK leg out and holding a tablet in front of the tall invader to tamper with.

"Now, Zim knows you have questions and Zim has answers which will come to you in time." Zim holds up a finger as Dib opens his mouth, ready to spill them all out in a gust of anger."However, if you are to get any of those... I need you to pledge your loyalty to Zim."

Another PAK leg pops out and shoots at the glass, phases through it and holds the tablet out for Dib to read. It's a contract... and it's...

Dib's face scrunches up after reading just the first sentence, "Are you fucking kidding me? What bullshit is THIS!?!?"

Zim sighs at the insufferable human, "Zim's next mission will either bring me death or, in your Earthen measurement term, an 'inch' into supreme leadership."

Zim tsks at Dib's changing disgruntled features, "Which means the Tallest will be throwing everything they can at me, starting from the second I receive my mission, to the moment I step foot back on the massive to give my final report of success. This plan has been in motion for much longer than you've even been alive Dib-thing. And there are a lot of things I cannot tell you _here_ for obvious reasons. So sign it... if you're _game, slave_."

Dib's breath hitches. Eyes darting up to the Irken's eyes. _Did it just say-_

Zim's eyes squint, "Perhaps your PAK is not keeping proper hygiene of your hearing holes because they must be filled with too much foul body excrement to have heard me say if you're _game, slave_."

Dib's eyes turn guarded immediately, but the little spark that Zim found unnaturally alluring, that defiance, the stubborn little flicker that struck a cord in him, brightened into something a little too luminous to be those...

Dib snatches the tablet, having read the invader as best he could. _Sometimes, a little leap into the unknown, though terrifying, is needed._

Dib's finger stings when he makes contact with the screen, instinctively jerking his hand back and away from the source. Zim is quick enough to grab it before it clatters to the ground.

"It was just taking a bio signature to complete the form." Zim sneers, pressing his own digit to the screen, and as the tablet samples Zim's own bio signature, not even his antenna twitch at the sharp pain as he then taps away, unfazed... such samples were mandatory in most, if not all, Irken documents involving signatures after all.

A few taps on the screen and the Irken humms in approval. "Everything seems to be in working order. I'll be back for you in 3 of Irk units. Welcome to the Irken Empire."

"Sir Unit Dib."

**Author's Note:**

> So I've devised a way of keeping a theme with my chapters and even how I'm motivating myself to write this all out.  
I've put my Billy Talent playlist on shuffle, whatever song it lands on is the title for the chapter. And will no doubt fuel what exactly I'm writing as it will be the ONLY song I will be listening to until the chapter is published.  
I literally give myself earworms by looping that sonnova bitch until the entire chapter is done, aka, I've even banned myself from turning on my car radio...  
Do you guys know that the FBI have actually confessed that repeating the same song over and over again is an effective means of torture that leaves no visible scarring? Jokingly, I'm going to drive the ZADR bug from my body with this.  
Don't you love it when writing fanfiction literally grabs your life by the balls and forces you to continue to power through writers block by the sheer need to keep what little semblance of sanity you have?


End file.
